Helena weekly herald. [volume] (Helena, Mont.) 1867-1900, 1887-02-10

"Yes, lately, quite often; she was here this
evening with mother; was here, think, when
| you came"
Thatcher looked intently at Harlowe. But
that gentleman's face betrayed no confusion.
| Thatcher retilled his glass a little awkwardly,
tossed off the liquor at draught, and rose to
his feet
"Come, old fellow, you're not going now.
| l shan't permit it." said Harlowe, laying his
hand kindly on his clients shoulder. "You're
out of sorts. Stay here with me tonight.
Our accommodations are not large, but are
elastic. can bestow you comfortably until
morning. Wait here a moment, while give
the necessary orders"
Thatcher was not sorry to be left alone In
the last half hour he had become convinced
that his love for Carmen de Haro had been in
some way most dreadfully abused. While he
was hard at work in California, she was
being introduced in Washington society by
parties with eligible brothers, who bought
her paintings. 1t is relief to the truly jeal-
Gus mind to indulge in plurals. Thatcher
liked to think that she was already beset by
hundreds of brothers.
He still kept staring at the picture By and
| by it faded away in part, and very vivid rec
objection of the misty, midnight, moonlit walk
he had once taken with her came back, and
refilled the canvas with its magic. He saw
the ruined furnace; the dark, overhanging
masses of rock, the trembling intricacies of
! foliage, and, above all, the flash of dark eyes
under mantilla at his shoulder What a
fool he had been! Had he not really been as
senseless and stupid as this very Concho,
lying here like log! And she had loved that
mani What fool she must have thought
him that evening, What snob she must
think him now!
He was startled by slight rustling in the
passage, that almost ceased he turned
! Thatcher looked toward the door of the outer
Office, as if half expecting that the lord chan
cellor, like the commander in Don Juan, 4"
might have accepted his thoughtless invitation
He listened again; everything was still. He
was conscious of feeling i'll at ease and a trife
nervous. What a long time Harlowe took to
make his preparations. He would look out in
| the hall. To do this it was necessary to turn
up the gas. He did SO, and in his confusion
turned it ont.
| Where were the matches? He remembered
that there was bronze something on the
able that, iii the irony of modern deco rative
taste, might hold ashes or matches, or any
| thing of an unpicturesque character. He
knocked something over, evidently the ink
something else-this time a champagne glass
Becoming reckless, and now gropng at ran
dom in the ruins he overturned the bronze
Mercury on the center table, and sat down
hopelessly in his chair. And then a pair of
velvet fingers slid into his, with the matches,
and this audible, musical statement:
1T is match you are seeking! Here is of
them"
Thatcher flushed, embarrassed, nervous
feeling the Righteousness of saying Thank
you" to a dark sOmebody-struck the match,
beheld by its brief, uncertain glimmer Carmen
de Haro beside him, burned his fingers,
coughed, dropped the match, and was cast
again into utter darkness.
Let me try"
Carmen struck a match, jumped brskly on
the chair, lit the gas, jumped lightly down
again, and said: "You do like to sit in the
| dark-eh? SO am I-sometimes-alone."
Miss de Haro," said Thatcher, with sud-
den, honest earnestness, advancing with out
| stretched hands, 'believe me. | am sincerely
delighted, overjoyed, again to meet"
| She had, however, quickly retreated as he
approached, ensconcing herself behind the
high back of a large antique chair, oh the
cushion of which she knelt | regret to add
also that she slapped his outstretched fingers
little sharply with her inevitable black fan
as he still advanced.
1--WE are not in California. 1t is Washing
ton 1t is after midnight. am poor girl,
! and have to lose-what you Gala charac-
| ter You shall sit over there"-she pointed
to the sofa-"and l shall sit here"-she rested
| her boyish head on the top of the chair-"and
we shall talk, for haze to speak to you, Don
Royal"
| Thatcher took the seat indicated, contritely,
humbly, submissively. Garments little heart
was touched; but she still went on over the
back of the chair.
"Don Royal" she said, emphasizing each
word at him with her fan, "before saw you
ever knew of you-I was a child. Yes, l
was but a child l was a bold, bad child-and
was what you cali a-a-'forgaire"